Bride Candidate #9

Sacrifice. The word bound them together. They would both be sacrificing something. Hers was greater—

“Ariel? You there?”

“I’m here.” She swallowed “And you’ve got yourself a deal. Where will you stay, though? I heard on the news that every hotel is booked.”

“Darlin’, darlin’ You don’t really think I’d have any trouble linin’ up a room, do you? Celebrity has its perks.”

The teasing tone didn’t completely cover some emotion she couldn’t quite name, but that she could hear, beneath the surface of the words. If he stayed in a hotel, he’d be hounded by the media. How many times could he answer the question of how it felt not being able to be part of history? She knew how intrusive the media could be.

She sighed at the inevitability of what she was destined to ask him next. First, sacrifice, now risk. “If you don’t mind not having room service or the media camped outside your door, Lucas, why don’t you just stay with me at my apartment?”

Unearthly silence followed. She filled it. “It’d sure make it easier all the way around. We’ve got to get to and from the Center, then the dinner-dance, and then the game. I think we know each other well enough to coexist for a few days. You have to leave the cigars at home, though.”

“I wouldn’t smoke in your house. Any other rules I should know of?”

“I don’t know if you would consider it a rule, but, just so that there’s no confusion, you will have a bedroom of your own. And this is a strictly platonic invitation.”

“Naturally.”

She swore she could hear him grinning. He had agreed to the stipulation way too fast.

“Okay, Ariel. I’ll be there. Thanks for the offer.”

“When will you arrive?”

“Wednesday night. I’d like to check everything at the Center ahead of time myself. I’m kinda curious, though, why you’re makin’ rules before they become issues. If you’re afraid of something, why don’t you just tell me now, and we’ll settle it before we see each other.”

“I’m not afraid of anything.”

“Doesn’t sound like it to me, Ariel.”

When they ended the conversation a few minutes later, she wondered the same thing. The answer was easy. She was afraid of him and his very public life. She was also drawn to the vulnerable side of him, the tough guy who she decided didn’t want the world to know how hard it was to leave his celebrity status behind, the identity of “football player,” a role he’d had since he was a boy.

But something stronger had pushed and shoved its way past all that. The acknowledgment that she needed him, too. Needed to feel like a woman, cherished and valued for who she was, not because she was a quintessential volunteer and the ultimate hostess.

She just wanted the fantasy for a little while.

“This is stupid,” Marguerite shouted as she ducked her head against the driving wind and rain bombarding San Francisco. “Just tell her the truth, Luke.”

He returned a quelling look, then climbed the next stair. And the next.

“If she’s any kind of woman, she won’t care about your disability.”

“I don’t want to be coddled. And I’m not disabled permanently. I just decided to put off the surgery until after this weekend. Keep your voice down now. We’re almost to the top. She’ll hear us.”

“Men,” Marguerite muttered, hefting a rain-splattered bag.

“Including me in that tone of voice, sweetheart?” Sam asked, adjusting Luke’s Pullman and suit bag as they ascended the stairs to Ariel’s second-floor apartment.

“For the moment. Talk to him, Sam.”

“It’s like talking to granite, and you know it. He’s—”

“Shh.” Luke came to a stop at the landing. He resisted rubbing his aching knee. “Just set the bags down and scoot on back to the rental car. I’ll take it from he—”

The door opened, spilling light on the three, who probably looked like five-year-olds caught playing doctor, Luke decided.

“Brought your entourage, Lucas?” Ariel asked, opening the door wider. “A big, strong man like you can’t carry his own luggage?”

“Hello to you, too, darlin’.” Lord, she looked good. He brushed past her, letting Sam and Marguerite follow. He got an impression of space and color and warmth as he glanced around her living room.

Ariel tossed a towel at Marguerite, then disappeared into a room and returned with a couple more for the men.

“Take off your jackets. I’ll fix something to warm you up.”

“They’re not staying,” Luke said.

“Don’t be rude.” Ariel gave him a direct look

“I spend fifty to sixty hours a week with Luke as it is,” Marguerite said. “You think I’d willingly subject myself to more?”

Sam chuckled. “Gotta get to the hotel” He passed the towel back to Ariel and placed a hand at Marguerite’s back.

Ariel’s brows lifted. “You have something urgent to do at ten-fifteen at night?”

“After the flight we just had, a hot bath and a stiff drink seem not only urgent, but a matter of life or death,” Marguerite said

“You flew here? I assumed you were so late arriving because the snowstorm in the Sierras made the roads tricky to drive.”

“Blizzard,” Luke corrected her, curious at her sudden pallor “We sat on the tarmac for a couple of hours waiting for a window of opportunity.”

“They should have canceled the flight.”

“Once the tower granted permission, it was my call, since I’m the pilot,” he said, then grabbed her arm when she swayed. “What’s wrong with you?”

“You’re a pilot? You flew yourself here?” she asked, her eyes huge and dark “In a blizzard?”

“It was clear when we took off. Ariel, I’ve been flyin’ for more than ten years. During the off-season I represented Titan all around the country. Flying myself saves a lot of time and hassle getting from place to place, but it’s also my recreation. You have a problem with that?”

She shrugged, the color returning to her cheeks as she pulled free of his hold. “Nope.”

“Good.”

Marguerite snorted.

“Come on, sweetheart. We should get going,” Sam said, tugging on her arm.

“Ariel.” Marguerite called over her shoulder as she was being physically removed from the house, “make sure he doesn’t climb your stairs too many times a day.”